Accidents
by xlightfromabovex
Summary: 2/50 of the 50Shuffle Challenge! Lazard is feeling ill, but what is the cause? All hell will break loose when he finds out... AngealxLazard yaoi, mpreg, AU - blame it on Fish! Rated T for language - you can't blame Zard really though...
1. I

**[A/N: So, the second of the 50Shuffle Challenge! To 'Accidents' by Alexisonfire :3**

**Blame sarainya-fish ENTIRELY for this; SHE put the idea in my head, SHE came up with it -__- It's all her DEVIOUS influence, I tell you!**

**But I did want to do some more Angzard ^^**

**Hey-ho, whatever… though [and blame Fish again] this is meant to be a oneshot, it will probably end up being continued, NOT at all cause we've come up with the kid's name[s?] and a whole plotline for it while we were meant to be revising… ;D**

**I do not own Angeal or Zard. Meh.**

**Warning! Yaoi, mpreg, VERY AU. Fwee~!]**

Lazard opened his eyes and immediately closed them again, wincing at the sharp light stabbing through the blinds. A wash of nausea swept over him, leaving him dizzy, and he groaned. This was the second week in a row that he had been waking to the same ordeal – never actually throwing up but feeling as if any move he made would bring his stomach hurtling through his mouth.

With a grimace, he opened his eyes again and kept them open, one hand searching for his glasses and finding a note resting on the pillow beside him; when he was properly bespectacled, he held it up and read it through squinting eyes;

_Z,_

_Had to leave early this morning for cadet training; there's a couple who I think could be advanced already. I think I'll be out all day, worse luck – you know there's nothing I'd rather do than be here with you…_

_You look beautiful when you're asleep, as always. _

_Have a good day off!_

_A_

_Xxx_

Lazard smiled at the words from his raven-haired lover and stored the note away with all the other letters he'd received form Angeal. The simple movement of rolling over lurched his stomach again and he swore softly. What was _wrong_ with him? This had been going on for too long now; he hadn't told Angeal that he was feeling so unwell for so long – there was no point in worrying him unnecessarily about Lazard's health, after all.

And he was usually gone in the mornings, as today, and so didn't see Lazard's daily agony.

The Director of SOLDIER grumbled miserably to himself as he made his way to the bathroom to splash his face with water. Would it _hurt_ the man to wake up a little later than the crack of dawn? It wasn't like his cadets were ever up that early anyway – lazy little buggers, Lazard thought uncharitably. What had _they_ ever done to warrant so much of _his_ Angeal's attention?

He glared at himself in the mirror and then blinked. Where had that bitterness come from…? Honestly, he thought as he smiled to cover his confusion, he was acting like some jealous wife left at home with the children…

He froze.

No.

That's impossible.

Not even physically _thinkable_.

Yet…

He had all the symptoms; morning sickness, mood swings – even an unaccountable craving for apple and lemon pie (he'd have to get Angeal to steal some Banora Whites from Genesis if his precious honour would allow it – and if the fiery redhead wasn't guarding them with his life, as usual).

Sure, he had all the symptoms – but it was quite literally _impossible_. He didn't have a womb, for a start…

But as he stared at his reflection with terror in his eyes and water still dripping down his face, he became horribly convinced that it was true.

But only one way to find out – and he did have a whole free day ahead of him, after all…

-

The proprietor of the Item Shop in Sector Three would never quite be able to guess who the strange customer who entered with what appeared to be a large blanket over his head in her shop that day was; all she knew was that he came in around the door like there was some kind of alarm that would self-destruct if he set it off installed, then after a quick look around wended his way towards the shelves on the left-hand side of the shop. Having had a swift browse, he shuffled up to the counter and held out the two boxes.

"Erm, how much are these?" he coughed, glancing surreptitiously around the shop. The shopkeeper looked at him curiously and told him slowly; the money was slapped onto the counter with a shaking hand, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Had an accident with the mistress, eh?" she asked in a knowing voice, dropping the man's purchases into a nondescript brown paper bag. He glanced up momentarily and then looked away again.

"It's… a bit more complicated than that," he muttered and waited impatiently for his receipt. The shopkeeper nodded with a wink.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't find out." The man stared at her as if he had been electrocuted, and she caught the flash of glasses under the cowl. "The husband of your mistress, I mean," she laughed. "Dearie me, you must be in it bad… I've only seen people with _very_ guilty consciences react like that."

She handed over the bag with a smile. "Hope it all goes well, and come again!"

As he left, she added with a cackle, "With the right protection next time!"

-

Come _on_, Geal.

Lazard sat on the edge of the bed, fingers tapping nervously on the pillow as he waited. Once more, he looked at the clock, and once more it had only moved a minute since he last looked.

With an irritated sigh, he pushed himself up and went to stand by the window, tapping a foot as he stared through the glass.

Suddenly, strong arms enfolded him from behind and he tensed, then relaxed as he smelt Angeal's reassuring scent and felt warm breath on his neck.

"Had a nice day?"

"Ang, there's something we need to talk about…" Lazard began, but Angeal cut him off with a light kiss, smirking against the smaller man's lips.

"That can wait until later," he grinned, linking his arms around Lazard's neck. "For now, it's been a long day and I've missed you…"

Despite his suspicions that weighed uncomfortably in his chest, Lazard felt his guard waver and crumble under that implacable gaze, the warmth of the embrace, those lips on his…

His news could, as Angeal said, most definitely wait.

-

By the time they were finished, night had fallen fully; the building was quiet apart from the occasional tramp of guards' boots past the apartment and the ever-present hum of computers and machines that pervaded everywhere here. It was not overly cold despite the frost creeping over the windows – the regulated air conditioning and heating took care of that, as well as the insulating warmth of the ruffled creamy sheets.

Lazard had gone to the modest bathroom of his apartment to shower, gently rebuffing Angeal's offer to join him, and now the hiss of water had softened and faded. From the cosy nest on the bed, Angeal drowsily wondered what was taking his slim lover so long. The thought of getting up to look crossed his mind, but was rejected; it was Lazard's own apartment after all, so he was probably just tidying… something. Angeal blinked at how weak that argument sounded.

But whatever, he was too tired now to get up. The buzz of machines became a humming lullaby, closing his eyes gently and pulsing his mind towards sleep; the warmth of the bed enveloped him, and he drifted off into unconsciousness.

-

_Shit._

Lazard stared in horrified disbelief at the mocking blue lines, faint yet undeniably there. He remembered to keep breathing, feeling his heart alternate between thrashing in his chest like a caged bird and slowing until it had almost stopped.

The world had narrowed down to those two luminous marks on the white cylinder trembling in his hand, looking so innocent but heralding the end of his world – or, the life he had now, at least.

He dropped the test and buried his head in his hands in despair, faintly shaking with shock and – yes, terror. Shaking his head slowly he closed his eyes for a long blink and then opened, hoping against all reason that somehow, if there were any kind of gods in this world, the lines would have disappeared; but no, there they were, glowing happily on their white background. He glanced up to see the second test that had been sitting on the bathroom counter since that morning – of course, he had done two. It would not do to be any less than thorough in _this _matter.

Seemingly, Angeal had been thorough enough for the both of them.

Lazard kicked the wall with his heel, ignoring the dull pain.

"How the _fuck _is this even _possible_?" he hissed to himself, wanting to scream but unwilling to risk Angeal bursting in right now. Normally, he wouldn't swear even in private; he was usually a reserved man, keeping his opinions and thoughts to himself and only fully opening up to Angeal – but this situation fully merited the foulest, rudest language he could muster, and even that would not be enough to express his feelings.

Fuck fuck fuck _fuck FUCK_,

Damn it,

"How in all Gaia am I going to_ tell_ him?" Lazard whispered to himself, shaking his head again and then looking up to the locked door. That he had to do it now was certain; he could wait no longer and besides, Angeal had a right to know that he was going to become a… father?

Lazard shuddered and lowered his head again. No, no, no! It couldn't be happening - not now, with the ShinRa Company expanding so quickly and successfully; there had been little or no resistance to his department, SOLDIER, apart from a slight mistrust of them in Wutai. That could be a problem in the future, he mused, mind distracted for the moment from his plight; but then the current situation rushed back in on him like a tidal wave, and despair tightened icy claws around his chest.

"Fucking hell," he murmured, steeling himself to stand; he was not certain his legs would take his weight, but they did – a little shakily, it was true, but it would do for now.

He took a deep breath and unlocked the door, switching off the light before opening it into the dark room beyond. At the soft whoosh of Angeal's sleeping breath, he relaxed a little; it was a sound that never failed to calm him, and gods above knew how much he needed calming down right now.

Trusting to experience to find his way to the bed, he entered the shadow, blinking as he did so to adjust his eyes to the darkness. Another deep breath, and he slipped into the sheets next to Angeal, resisting his sleepy advances to prod him awake. The black-haired man blinked slowly and opened one eye to glare reproachfully at Lazard, who had switched on a dim lamp.

"Zard?" he asked with a slight slur to the word. "Wha's wrong?"

Lazard bit his lip nervously. "You know I said we had to talk about something, angel?"

Angeal shook himself awake and sat up a little, anxiety creeping onto his sharp features. "Yes… Zard, what is it? Are you all right?"

Lazard laughed nervously. "Erm, you could say that…"

At his words, Angeal sat up fully and put a hand on the side of Lazard's face, eyes brimming with worry. "Zard, tell me." His voice was flat and commanding, like the one he used when talking to his cadets but softer. "I won't be angry, I promise, I just want to help if I can…"

Lazard laughed tensely again and tried to look at his lover, but found he could not; his gaze flickered everywhere in the room apart from at Angeal, as if following some flitting insect.

"Well – um, you see – I don't know how but-" He stopped and laughed breathlessly. "Well, I do know how, but it shouldn't – it's not really possible, you know-" He paused for breath and ran a hand shakily across his forehead. "You see, angel, you're going to become a father."

Angeal froze, staring squarely at Lazard. "No, Zard, I haven't betrayed you, I swear – I haven't-"

Lazard shook his head spasmodically, eyes suddenly locked with Angeal's as if by magnetic attraction. "No, I know you haven't, my angel… it's, erm, me."

Angeal remained frozen, confusion written all over his face. "What do you mean, it's you?" he asked slowly, raising one eyebrow subconsciously. Lazard took a deep, shaky breath.

"It's me, Angeal," he said, then before the other could interrupt, "I'm pregnant."

**Oh dear, shoot me now.**

**CURSE YOU FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH! *shakes fist***

**:3 Like it? Hate it? Blame it all on Fish and want to lynch her? Tell me in a review! Hahaha~**


	2. II

**[A/N: And so it is continued… guh, it's pretty short, cause it's been going for about two or three months now and I got fed up with trying to finish this bit -____-;; Sorry! Hopefully, if I get my Angzard muse back, the next update'll be quicker and better :D **

**Btw, we're going under the vague supposition that because Angeal's genes can pass on his traits to others, SOMEHOW that got transferred into making Zard pregnant… shush, it's the most logical idea here – haha, as if any of this is logical…]**

Huh.

So telling your lover that you were pregnant was a foolproof way of rendering him unconscious. Lazard would have to advise Genesis about that one, in case Sephiroth became too amorous after a long day at work again; it was especially helpful since alcohol, sleeping pills and even chocobo tranquilizer could not halt a First-Class on the rampage – Lazard knew that from personal experience.

But for the moment, Angeal was no use to the Director while he was slumped on the pillow in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, and so Lazard pondered a way to wake him.

Waking a First-Class was even harder than putting them to sleep.

Agitated prodding didn't work; moving him so he could lie on his back only seemed to encourage him to fall asleep; even a sharp slap proved a failure. And so Lazard was forced to get up once more, find his way to the bathroom and then, pointedly ignoring the abandoned tests, rummage around for a cup. Having filled it with nice cold water, he switched the light on in the bedroom, flooding it with harsh iridescence, and proceeded to empty the cup.

Over Angeal's head.

Spluttering and swearing, the First-Class SOLDIER scrabbled upright and stared around wildly, eyes focusing eventually on Lazard, who had sat down next to him.

"Uh, Zard?" Angeal asked, panic fluttering in his gaze. "Please tell me that was a dream? A really bizarre, weird dream?"

Lazard levelled an icy stare back at his lover with even icier blue eyes. "No, I can't tell you that, because it wasn't. I. Am. Pregnant." Stating it so simply seemed to help him calm a little, and taking it out on Angeal also worked wonders for his self-control. "And it's all _your _fault."

Angeal shrank back a little, then seemed to remember his 'SOLDIER pride' and recovered himself. "Come on Zard, I could hardly have predicted this…"

Lazard scoffed, earlier terror now hardened into a raging ball of blame. "I hardly did it myself."

He almost regretted the words when he saw the hurt look Angeal gave him, but disregarded it.

"Zard, this can't be true. I mean, it's not physically _possible,_ is it?"

"I certainly didn't think so, but it seems I've been proved wrong. Two tests don't lie, Geal…" Lazard's brief anger seemed to have burnt itself out, and with a sigh he allowed himself to be drawn into Angeal's arms – still trembling a little, it was true, but that was understandable.

He had just received some rather unsettling news, after all.

There was a silence for a while, broken eventually by Angeal's sigh, holding a hint of bleak despair.

"What are we going to do then?" the black-haired SOLDIER asked, looking down at Lazard, whose eyes were closed lightly but flickered open at the question.

"Get rid of it," he said flatly, staring at the ceiling. Angeal breathed in sharply and sat up straighter, unintentionally pushing Lazard away. The Director rolled off the bed and walked over to the window, moonlight creeping in under the drawn curtains.

"It's all we can do, Geal," he said quietly, back to the bed. Angeal followed him and stood beside him, a frown drawing his sharp brows together. "I can't have this… thing. It can't be natural… and how am I meant to give birth to it, anyway?"

Angeal stared at him, trying to find the words. "But, Zard, this baby has as much right to be alive as we do…"

"And if I have it, there is little chance I'll survive, Geal," Lazard retorted angrily. "Can't you see?"

"But it's not right to…"

"Do you want this baby or me?" Lazard asked, staring into Angeal's eyes. "Because you can only have one, and though it might sound selfish, I'm not dying for a child – even if it is yours." He stopped and looked down, continuing in a quieter but no less powerful tone. "My father wouldn't have done so for me, so I can't do it myself."

Angeal looked at him with helpless tears starting in his eyes; Lazard refused to return his gaze.

"Then I suppose… we'll have to do that," the black-haired SOLDIER said resignedly. "But you'll have to do it alone, Zard. I want no part in this."

Lazard started from his self-absorbed reverie and went to grab Angeal's arm as the SOLDIER turned away and started gathering up his things, dressing without a word. He steadfastedly ignored all of Lazard's protests and pleas; finally, he halted at the door as he was about to leave and looked back at the distraught figure of the Director standing helplessly by the bed.

"If you haven't changed your mind by tonight, I won't bother coming back," Angeal said flatly, and swept out of the door.

The night suddenly seemed so cold.


End file.
